The Deception of The Heart
by KateWare
Summary: RECENTLY UPDATED w/ Ch. 16 Post 1x22 (season finale) The story of Mary Queen of Scots continues at French Court. The pains of Francis's departure, Henry's death and the relationships of Mary's closest friends all begin to weigh down on the young Queen. What will become of Mary when rumors become truth and lies are told? (as always comments are greatly appreciated)
1. Chapter 1

Mary watched, her back stiff and muscles rigid, as Francis rode away from her, away from the castle. Her mouth was set, her teeth clenched and lips drawn. She had closed her heart off long ago. Ever since she had heard of the slaughter of her countrymen, she had severed her emotions. Mary was no longer a child. She was no longer just a girl. She was a queen and queens do not form attachments, nor do they show emotion. Catherine had taught her that, Catherine had made her stronger, more resilient.

It began to snow as it often did now days. It became entangled in her hair and clothes. Mary grimaced, disgusted. There was once a time when she would have stopped to play in the snow. Perhaps she would have, with her ladies. Those days were gone; play was reserved for children who were oblivious to the world.

Mary turned away from the gate, sweeping her gown out behind her as she went. If Francis wanted to die of the plague, so be it. Let him die, he cared not for her. He cared for his country just as she cared for hers. Leaders have no affections for one another, only love for their countries. She walked back into the castle, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of her. Anyone she passed she would only nod in recognition and continue on, she didn't have time, she wanted to find Catherine.

She turned the corner to the hallway that led to Catherine's study and froze.

She saw them.

Bash and Kenna.

Their heads were drawn together with Bash's arms on either side of Kenna, pressing her against the wall. Kenna laughed at something Bash said. It lit up her entire face. Bash smiled sheepishly and looked off to the side, not at her. She reached up and gently turned Bash's cheek so that he could only look at her and kissed him.

What hurt Mary the most was that Sebastian did not hesitate to kiss her back. It was a short kiss, brief yet passionate. Afterwards, Kenna closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. Sebastian whispered something once more in her ear and she burst into a fit of giggles.

Mary could not stand to watch this any longer. Did Sebastian not care for her at all? Had he not remembered the times when he used to make her laugh like that? Francis never could make her laugh the way Bash did. He had brought a wildness into her life that her husband simply could not.

Catherine forgotten, Mary turned back heading to her own chambers and stumbled over her own gown. She did not fall, but yet she caught herself with a hand against the wall. Sebastian and Kenna stopped what they were doing and looked at her.

"Mary! Are you alright?" asked Kenna, gently pushing Bash away from her.

Sebastian said nothing. He stood there staring at her as if she were a phantom. Mary realized that this was truly the first time she had seen him romantically with Kenna. It shocked her to her very core. He had told her he cared nothing for her, yet here he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Had he not done the same with her only months before?

"Mary…" he began, walking slowly towards her. Mary was so disorientated that she did not realize that she had turned and fled down the hallway until she reached her chambers. She pushed open the heavy wooden door and quickly locked it. Slowly, she sank down to her knees, her dress spilling out beneath her. It enveloped her small frame. Mary brought her hands to her face and let a single sob rack her body. She could almost feel her heart breaking.

Sebastian still held half her heart. She did not know it, but he did, he still held her heart after all this time. She did this to herself. She denied his love for her. She denied her love for him. Francis was her duty to king and country; Sebastian was her right to happiness and love. Both were a different kind of love for not all love is the same. Mary had never known true love until Bash showed her. Love is not tempered nor dictated. Love is wild, free, wholesome and honest.

She wiped the tears from her cheek and sat, starring at the wall, making herself numb to her pain. She did not know how long she sat there for; she only knew that when there was a knock at the door the sun had already set. For a brief moment her heart fluttered. Mary scrambled to her feet and threw open the door. Sebastian, please be Sebastian.

Kenna.

Kenna was standing before her looking beautiful in her gown of red silk. Her hair was pinned up extenuating her swan like neck. Her scarlet lips were set in a frown and her eyes wide. Kenna placed a hand on her hip. Red suited her.

"Mary, may I come in?" she asked. Mary hesitated. "I will be quick." she added.

"Very well." Mary replied, opening the door.

Kenna stepped cautiously into the room looking uncertain of herself. She turned and faced Mary a sadness playing in her eyes. Mary must have looked so disheveled in comparison to Kenna's radiance, her gown wrinkled and hair tangled. She lifted a hand to her face and closed her eyes, took a steadying breath and then dropped it back down to her side.

"Mary, I am so sorry." Kenna murmured.

"Do not," she replied. "Do not worry Kenna. Sebastian no longer holds a place in my heart." The lie rolled easily off her lips. She was beginning to master the art of deception; a skill that would come in handy when dealing with diplomats.

Kenna worked her bottom lip, looking very uncomfortable. "I want you to know, Mary, that—"

"Kenna," Mary stepped forwards and placed two hands on her friend's shoulders. "Let us not speak of it any longer. It is done. You have no reason to seek forgiveness."

Kenna hugged Mary and Mary hugged her back. Kenna was an innocent in all this she told herself; she had no say in the matter. Mary should be happy that she had found love in her marriage to Bash. Kenna pulled away, a smile playing on her lips.

"Come, we must get you ready for supper." she said, tugging on Mary's hand. She hesitated once more and stiffened her back.

"Not tonight." Mary replied abruptly. Kenna looked back and frowned, a questioning look in her eye. She touched Mary's cheek with her own gloved hand.

"Alright then, I will have the servants send it up." she whispered and as quickly as she came she left. Only afterwards could Mary breathe again. She looked over at the tapestry that hid the secret passages that led out of the castle, grabbed her cloak and disappeared into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian had hoped that wine would numb his thoughts. Especially the fine wines from King Henry's cellar, his father's secret stash that Catherine had so recently discovered. However, the alcohol had only done the exact opposite; his mind was reeling with bright colors, details sharp as a knife's blade and feelings intensified like no other. It was becoming increasingly difficult to sit and listen to aristocrats' talk of scandal and fashion. Kenna, of course, hung on to their every word and they fawned over her like a kitten.

He was never meant to sit at dinner parties and flirt and gossip and act upon façade. Bash should be out hunting or riding, joking with his fellow huntsmen. He was the joke now, dressed up in expensive leathers and furs like some pompous nobleman. He took another gulp of his wine and smashed his tankard on the table. No one seemed to notice except for Kenna. She glanced over at him, a worried look in her eyes. Sebastian gazed at her, her face blurring and becoming someone else's entirely.

Mary. She became Mary.

Sebastian thought he would retch all over the table. His world began to spin. Kenna placed a delicate, gloved hand over his fisted one. Kenna, over these past few months, was slowly becoming a different person. She was kinder, warmer, more selfless, becoming more aristocratic by the week. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Sebastian was having a harder time adapting to this new lifestyle and his new marital duties. He was expected to be a good husband, please his wife, please those around him and, more importantly, forget Mary even existed.

"Bash?" Kenna asked, placing her hand on his thigh. "Are you well?"

Sebastian smiled at his wife. Her scarlet lips, the color of pagan blood, teased him mercilessly. He wanted nothing more than to bite those sinful lips. Unfortunately, such actions were frowned upon at the supper table.

"Simply tired my dear." he replied taking in another mouthful of red wine. Kenna nodded, whispered a few words to the woman sitting next to her and rose from the table.

"If you will excuse us your Lordships, we will be retiring from supper." Kenna said, addressing the noblemen and women around them. They all offered their false formalities in farewell. Kenna took Bash's elbow, linking it through her own, and they exited the room.

He leaned on Kenna for her physical support, both literal and figurative. He craved her love and needed it to numb his pain, his emotional pain over the loss of Mary. She had to practically drag him to their chambers for he could not balance on his own two feet. The look in Mary's eyes earlier today had almost broke him and he had almost gone to her, to console her.

Once he and Kenna reached their rooms he tugged off his vest and furs, throwing them onto the floor. He heard Kenna shut the door behind him and come to stand by his side. She could not get a word out before he was kissing her, consuming her whole. She was surprised at first by his sudden burst of passion, her eyes wide and mouth startled open. However, silent tears began to fall down Bash's cheeks, dampening his face. They fell freely as he kissed Kenna over and over again.

Agony, unlike the likes he had ever felt before, ripped his soul apart. Thoughts of Mary filled his mind and heart. He abruptly broke away from Kenna, a choked sound escaping his throat.

"Bash?"

Mary, Mary, Mary. Her name rang in his ears like a war cry. He collapsed on his knees with a sickening thud. Mary, Mary, Mary. The demon would not leave his thoughts, it teased her name, echoing it in his mind like a chant. His heart ached, his hands began to shake. Mary, Mary, Mary.

"Sebastian!" Kenna screamed, falling to his side.

Bash's hands tore at his scalp. His head pounded and the world around him danced like a flame. Tears continued to fall. He was afraid to look up, afraid to gaze up at the figure that stood before him now.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he cried. "Get out of my head!"

_Mary, _it teased, _Mary does not love you._

Bash clawed at his face. He felt Kenna's cool hands trying to push his own down. She was yelling at him to stop, her voice shaking. He choked on his own sobbing. He could no longer feel his own tears.

"No!" he shouted.

_Mary will never love a _bastard_!_

"NO! No, no, no. Get out!"

Kenna was now crying, hugging him to her chest. Her silk dress was ruined by sweat and tears, her hair loosened from its pins. He was now muttering senseless, unintelligible words, pagan words. Kenna did not realize it, but Bash was murmuring pagan prayers insentiently, subconsciously trying to fight off this demon. She clung to him desperately, her whole body shaking while he convulsed in her arms.

"Guards! Guards help!" her cries were unworldly in their torment.

Sebastian began to slip into unconsciousness, the voice taunting and mocking him. He heard the doors to their chambers burst open and guards fly in. He felt hands rip him away from Kenna and her sobs of protest somewhere in the distance. The last thing he remembered was the demonic voice warning him of a great malevolence,

_Remember little royal, evil is relentless in its revenge. Evil lurks in this castle._


	3. Chapter 3

Mary lit a torch, illuminating the dark passage ways before her. It smelled of mold and wet stone. She now knew these passages like the back of her hand and could navigate them easily. The flame of her torch cast strange shadows across the walls and darkened her skin. Mary felt like a tomb raider in this maze of stone. Her dress dragged across the floor as she walked, dampening and soaking it in muck and grim. She scowled. The dress was old and worn out, her bodice to loose and skirt faded. Still, her ladies would not appreciate that she had gone and ruined it.

Mary continued down the corridor, taking the passage that led to the only safe place she knew. Sometimes she wondered if Clarissa's spirit wandered these cryptic halls, but then again, Mary did not believe in ghosts. There was a time when she would delve into such stories of knights and dragons, phantoms and monsters, true love and true love's kiss. However, as she grew, she discovered that stories like that were dangerous. They made one's mind weak and susceptible to fantasy. Mary did not live in a world of fantasy. She lived in a world of heartbreak.

Turning the corner, she nearly collapsed on the floor. A sharp, piercing pain spread through her heart and stomach. She gasped at the agony, dropping her torch and placing a hand against the wall to keep herself from falling. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, it was as if her heart was being cut open. She couldn't breathe, she was suffocating, desperate for air. Mary turned against the wall, the stone digging into her back. She closed her eyes and clawed at the skin over her heart. If she called out, no one would hear her. If she buckled to the floor, no one would find her.

The only way out was to reach the stables, Mary's safe haven. The torch was still flickering on the floor and she struggled to bend and pick it up. As she did, she clutched at her heart, trying to ignore the rapid thumping. She yelled out in pain as she made her way down the passageway.

Nobody came to rescue her.

Mary was not sure where this had come from. She had never had any problems with her heart before. Not physical problems anyway.

She had almost reached the end of the hallway when voices began to call out to her. Mary stopped in her tracks and spun around, bringing the torch out in front of her. Strange shadows were creeping along the walls, slowly coming towards her. Mary had her fair share of supernatural experiences, but this by far was one of the scarier ones.

"Who is there?" she called out.

Another sharp pain to the chest.

Laughter, child-like laughter, echoed somewhere near.

"I demand you come out right now!" she yelled.

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary,  
How does your garden grow?  
With silver bells, and cockle shells,  
And pretty maids all in a row._

These voices, whoever they were, grew in pitch, singing, laughing, taunting. The shadows were almost upon her now and were dancing before her, shimmering before her. Mary felt around for a handle, hoping to find the door to the stables and escape. A large shadow came towards her, manifesting into a humanoid shape. Mary struggled to find the latch, but her hand trembled. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the black mist. The shadows behind it continued to murmur sickening nursery rhymes.

_Mary, Mary, poor little bird. Lost without a light?_

The spectrum glided forwards, morphing once more into a mist, and extinguished her light. Mary was plunged into darkness. She had never been more frightened in her entire life.

"What are you?" her voice quavered.

_I am darkness, I am evil, I am the thing that light fears the most._

The shadows behind the mist laughed. All at once, beady red eyes began to appear before Mary, blinking eyes that never wavered from her own. Suddenly, Mary felt the intense pain explode back into her heart, more agonizing then the first. Mary screamed a bloodcurdling scream. This time she could not hold herself upright and fell to the floor.

_So it is true, you're blood bound to the bastard._

The voice sounded surprised. Mary did not understand its words, she did not understand this pain. She felt the phantom hover around her, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the chill. She did the one thing she knew that would save her from this ghost. She prayed. She heard the thing hiss and spit. The pain in her heart slowly began to subside. Mary opened her eyes and gazed up the creature, the dark mist, continuing to pray. It spat foul things at her in a language she did not understand.

It lunged at her, shrouding her in blackness. Mary yelped in surprise.

And then the mist did a funny thing. It howled and sprang off of her as quickly as it had come. Mary's eyes widened, it looked as though it was burning in bright yellow light. It hissed and cursed and sizzled. Its eyes swung to hers, a burning hate searing in its depths. Mary shrunk backwards against the wall. Foul murmurings erupted in the corridor.

_Who is protecting the young Queen? _

"What do you want from me?" she challenged.

The mist cackled and melted once more into the shadows across the wall. The air around her immediately warmed and it became easier to breathe. As the shadows receded to the darkness it repeated the same frightening rhyme as before,

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary,  
How does your garden grow?  
With silver bells, and cockle shells,  
And pretty maids all in a row._

Mary raised her hands to her ears, trying to block out the voices. Tears ran down her cheeks as she fumbled for the door handle. She found it, swung the door open and fell face forwards into freshly cut hay. She choked on the crisp air, gulping it down as fast as she could. Mary was terrified, her body beginning to convulse. She slammed the passageway door shut and stumbled out of the hay. The horses in the barn were quiet. The atmosphere was peaceful. Most were asleep or munching calmly on grass, all of except for Banthos, Mary's white gelding. He was whinnying, kicking out at his stall door.

Mary could not reach her horse fast enough. Tears streamed down her face as she opened his stall. Only then did the massive beast stop baying. She threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. This was all some terrible, terrible nightmare. If Sebastian had slain the darkness then why had it returned? Why had it tormented her so?

She let go of Banthos's neck and collapsed in the corner of the stall, pieces of straw catching in her hair and dress. For the first time in a long time did Mary feel truly alone. There was no one she could speak to. Not about this, apart from Sebastian, but why would he want to see her after all she had done to him? She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head on her legs. She eventually stopped crying and had fallen asleep against the wooden stall, her cloak wrapped around her like a blanket. Only then was she at peace.

**. . .**

**Please let me know if you guys are enjoying this fic and like where it's going.**


	4. Chapter 4

Sebastian woke to a pounding headache. He immediately looked over his shoulder, expecting to find Kenna lying beside him. Instead, he found himself in Nostradamus's quarters atop the narrow infirmary bed. He sat up, startled by this realization. Guessing by the light streaming in through the barred windows he assumed it was still early. That is when something else occurred to him, the room was seemingly vacant of everyone but himself.

He threw back the thick furs he was sleeping on and stared down at his clothes. Odd, he thought, he did not remember ever putting on a woolen shirt or worn leather pants. In fact, he did not believe these were his clothes. What had happened last night? Trying to recall it had only resulted in blurred images. He felt alright. He was not sore nor was he ill.

Bash reached over next to the bed and pulled on his boots. As he was doing so, Kenna came flying down the stairs like a witch before burning. Her hair was loose and her red dress wrinkled and stained. There was a look of panic in her eyes and face.

"Bash!" Kenna said, running to him as fast as she possibly could in her long gown. "Bash!"

She reached him and quickly kissed his lips. He paid no mind. What he really wanted to know what in hell's domain was wrong. Kenna was breathing hard, her petite frame rising and falling rapidly. Bash placed two hands on her arms and gazed down at her.

"What—" he began, but could get no words out because Kenna was motioning dramatically.

"Oh good," she said. "You are well." She touched her hand to his cheek, examining his face, turning him this way and that.

"Of course I'm—Kenna what is the matter?" he asked pointedly.

Kenna took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. Bash was becoming frustrated. She hesitantly met his gaze, her eyes wide with worry.

"Mary," she said. "Mary has gone missing."

Bash's world stopped.

"What?" he breathed. Kenna glanced down at her hands, wringing them together with concern.

"She is nowhere to be found," she murmured. "We have looked everywhere."

Sebastian's heart flipped with fear. He could no longer see straight. It was as if he was drunk all over again, drunk with fear. He looked back down at Kenna and cupped her face.

"I am going to go find her." he decided.

"Sebastian!" she reprimanded. "You are in no condition to do so."

"If something were to happen to Mary…" he started and then realized he was speaking to Kenna. Her eyes were wide and her lips drawn. He remembered the conversation he had with her just after their wedding. How she said he would always be Mary's knight and never hers. Kenna did not understand his love for Mary and how deep that love ran. Mary never spoke of their love to her ladies. Sometimes Bash wondered if she had ever truly loved him at all.

Bash bent down, kissing his wife's cheek. Kenna reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Please. Just find her and bring her back." she whispered. "We all love Mary."

He nodded and did not glance back as he ran down the corridor. He thought of all the places she could be. Bash knew that if someone took Mary, she would be smart enough to let the castle know. Mary, although strong-willed, was not likely to disappear outside palace walls without telling. He went to her chambers, a place he did not frequent very often. He had not been there since the consummation. He slowed to a walk and made his way to the doors. The last time he had been here his heart had been broken, snapped in two. The two people he loved most acting as if he were not there, as if he meant nothing to them. Mary had stared straight through him that night.

Bash shook his head and pushed open the doors. Such things deserved to stay in the past. Entering the room, he discovered that it had already been searched. The bed was torn apart, furniture moved. He went into the bathroom and found it empty. For a moment he did not move. He was staring at the tub; another thing that deserved to stay in the past.

He wandered back into the bedroom. The room even smelled like her, of lilacs and roses. Mary was soft. At least she used to be before the royals corrupted her, made her harder. Her facial features were once smooth and long hair like silk. That was all before Catherine, Catherine and the wedding. Mary had changed. She had changed because she was taught that to be strong you had to be hard, resilient, cold. There were other ways to be strong. Strength came from the heart, it comes from the soul.

Bash remembered their daily rides, their daily, light-hearted discussions of human character. She loved riding, she loved…

_That is it_, he realized, _riding_, _Mary loved riding_.

He raced out the room and took the servant's staircase two at a time. The barn, she is probably with Banthos.

He had turned the corner and nearly tackled Nostradamus to the floor. Nostradamus, being a tall man, was not one to fall so easily. Bash backed up in surprise. Meanwhile, the old man was staring at him with much contempt.

"Sebastian," he said. "You should be resting."

"Mary—"

"Yes, I realize. I have not been able to locate her. Her whereabouts are blurred in my visions." Nostradamus said. Bash began to walk away, fixated on finding Mary. The seer caught his arm.

"Bash, about last night…"

"What about it?" he asked. Nostradamus looked at him for a moment before shaking his head. Something was troubling the old prophet.

"Nothing. Find Mary for me, I am concerned. Something is very wrong here." He gave Bash one last long glance before disappearing back into the castle. However, he did not have time to contemplate on his words because he had already reached the stables. Most of the horses were out, men riding in search parties he presumed.

Delphos, Bash's stallion, was already neighing before he even reached the stall. He pet the horse's dark flank as he passed, continuing down to Banthos's stall. He saw the young gelding's head over the door, ears pricked listening the sounds of morning. He nickered lightly as Bash approached.

"Hello boy." Bash whispered reaching out to stroke the horse's face. Banthos leaned it his hand. Sebastian smiled. "Where is she hmm?"

Banthos's ears snapped forwards as he listened to him. Mary was not here, she would not leave without her horse. His heart fell, she was truly gone. With that notion his heart emptied, becoming devoid of all his hope, all his love, all his _true_ love; the love that was wholesome, the love that was real. The love that was unlike anything he had ever felt. She was gone. She had left.

Bash began to walk away from Banthos, his heart heavy with emptiness. There was a loud bang behind him.

He paid no heed.

Another bang and this time a whinny.

He did not stop.

Thud, crash, thump; a piercing cry.

Sebastian spun around on his heel and saw Banthos rearing, lashing out with his hooves. He ran back to the horse.

"Hey! Hey," Sebastian said reaching the stall door and stepping inside. "Whoa boy, it is alright." he patted his shoulder, calming the animal. Banthos turned his head, immediately calm, and looked towards the corner of the stall. Bash followed his gaze and collapsed by her side.

Mary.


	5. Chapter 5

Bash knelt down beside Mary, his heart thumping in his chest. She was curled in on herself, tucked in the corner and wrapped in a cloak. The hood she was wearing hid her face and concealed her body. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

"Mary?" Bash whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She did not move.

"Mary," he repeated, gently shaking her. "Can you hear me?"

She was immobile. Bash carefully brought her hood back and her raven black hair cascaded out, spilling across the straw. The first thing he noticed was that she was barely breathing and her eyes were closed, lashes brushing her porcelain skin. For the second time that day, the world stopped spinning. A choked sound escaped his throat. He reached down and placed two fingers at her throat. Her heart beat was faint.

"Oh Mary…" he breathed, taking her limp body into his arms. She was so pale, so incredibly pale. Something was terribly wrong. She was not sleeping nor was she in a coma. Bash did not know what was wrong. He swept her hair out her eyes and ran a finger down her cheek. Her skin was still soft, just as he remembered. Her hair - her hair -, was still like silk. He remembered, he remembered her embrace, her softness, her lips. He remembered it all and it pained him. It pained him that it would never be the same between them.

He rocked back against the wall with Mary's head still on his chest. Bash was scared for her and he was not a man who was afraid of much. It did not matter that Mary was not family, he still loved her and Bash always protected those he loved. Love did not fade so easily and a love like this, a love like this was eternal.

Banthos wandered over and bowed his massive head. He brought his nose to Mary's cheek and breathed in deeply. He nudged her as if trying to wake her. Unsuccessful, he raised his head and snorted, beginning to paw.

The horse's impatience was correct, Bash needed to get Mary to Nostradamus and fast. He rose to his feet easily for Mary weighed almost nothing. He quickly strode out of the stall and made his way towards the castle. He took the quickest way possible, the servants' stairs that led all the way to Nostradamus's quarters. Her head rested over his heart and her hair fell across his arms as he walked.

Bash prayed. He prayed that she would be alright.

He reached the prophet's chambers in no time at all and found the man writing furiously at his desk. His mind appeared to be elsewhere.

"Nostradamus." Bash hurried.

Startled out of his vision the old man turned abruptly around in his chair. His eyes went wide when he saw Mary in his arms. He got to his feet and motioned for Bash to lay her on the bed. Bash did so and gently brought her head down on the pillows.

"Where did you find her?" he asked, his voice scratchy and rough.

"The stables," Bash replied. "But something is wrong, she will not wake."

Nostradamus nodded and touched her forehead, closing his eyes. He muttered a few choice words before taking his hand away.

"Interesting." he mumbled. Bash looked at him curiously.

"What is it?" he asked.

Nostradamus turned and looked at Sebastian, his eyes black as shadows. He straightened his back before he spoke.

"Mary is in the same state that you were in last night." he answered, walking towards the medicinal cabinet and grabbing various herbs.

"Nostradamus, what happened to me?"

The prophet froze, his hands applying medicine to Mary's head and lips. It took several moments before he met Bash's eyes.

"You came under the influence of a greater demon. You were muttering senseless pagan words in your sleep and kept calling out Mary's name." Nostradamus said and went back to Mary.

Sebastian did not know what to say. He was not sure whether he believed what he was hearing or not. The darkness had been vanquished. _He _had vanquished it. However, the warnings of the cultist still rang in his ears.

"It appears the attack on Mary was not as great. In fact I do not think she was attacked by demons but rather a malevolent spirit." he added matter-of-factly.

"Will she be alright?" Sebastian inquired.

"In time, yes, but right now she just needs rest. Her mind needs time to heal." Nostradamus wandered back over to his workbench and sat down. Once more, he began to write. "In the meantime, you must tell the castle the queen has been found. I will watch over her and make sure her condition does not worsen."

"Alright." Bash replied and glanced down at Mary. He knelt beside her, sweeping her hair away from her face. It pained him to leave her. He wanted nothing more than to stay by her side and protect her while she slept. He wanted to be the first person she saw when she awoke. Such things were impossible and no longer proper. Bash did not want to betray his brother's trust and he promised Kenna he would be faithful to her.

However, being around Mary made him want to be an unfaithful man.

He rose to his feet and began to walk out the wooden doors when Nostradamus turned his head in Bash's direction.

"And Sebastian." he said.

"Yes?"

"Speak of this to no one."


	6. Chapter 6

Mary dreamt. She dreamt of many things. She dreamt of Lola's child, or rather, children. Lola had conceived twins, a boy and a girl. In her dream Mary was there at the birth. She saw Lola crying out in pain on a small, wooden bed filled with straw and Francis rubbing her temple. Francis was staring at her as if she meant the world to him. A midwife was also present, helping with the birthing. The children were born rather quickly and the atmosphere of the room changed. The midwife handed the son to Francis and it was as if heaven had produced a miracle for her husband, something which she never could provide. Both he and Lola were smiling, gazing down at their children.

Mary approached Francis, but he did not see her, neither did Lola, neither did the midwife.

It was like she was a ghost.

She was suddenly ripped from the scene and found herself materializing next to Francis in the gardens. Francis had a young boy sitting on his lip and he was beaming down at him. The young king looked older, his face pale and hair faded. His body appeared weak. However, the child sitting in his lap brought years back to his life.

Mary was not as happy.

She was staring at the child with contempt and dismay. Feelings, undiscovered until this very moment, stirred within her. She hated the way her husband treated the bastard. He had not loved her like he loved his son, not in a long while. It was as if he was at the center of the world now, not his wife.

Mary heard him speaking with Lola's son, but the words were jumbled even though she was sitting right next to him.

"Francis." she barked.

He did not even turn his head. He made no move to show that he had heard her.

The wretch in his lap tried to grab his father's hair with chubby hands. At that moment, a courier, looking mournful, walked over to her husband. He bent down and whispered a few words; words that which Mary could not discern. The image of her dream began to slowly disperse and light scattered this way and that. She clearly smelled Lola's perfume. The courier faded away and the gardens disappeared. Everything was white and she only saw Francis's face, the child in his lap.

He mouthed something to her, but she could not understand. She could not read his lips. There was a look of deep sorrow etched into his features and tears feel down his cheeks onto his son. The son, too, began to wail. A wail unlike the likes Mary had ever heard. Mary, however, did not feel sympathetic and watched herself get up from the chair to leave the dreamscape.

For the third, and final, time, Mary was shown a fleeting image of her own tomb. She could not distinguish the lettering on the stones. She could only make out the man and, did not recognize, the woman. Mary felt that the tomb was not resting on French soil; she did not know where it was only that it was far from French court.

The man, she was shown his back and then his face.

Sebastian.

Mary was shown Bash.

His face was wrought with wrinkles and laugh lines. It did not make him look old, it made him look wiser and in a way, more handsome. His beard was trimmed short and hair streaked with gray. His clothes were not that of nobility, there were that of a bard.

Bash laid a hand on her tomb and it was as if he had touched Mary's skin. He slowly sank to his knees and wept. His hands, as they ran the length of the stone, were shaking. His torment was plain on his face.

Mary tried to go to him, but she was stuck to the floor. She cried out his name over and over until her voice was raw telling him that she was right here.

Bash brought his hands to his face and sobbed. His anguish was palpable.

At that moment, the woman stepped forward. Her face was not made known to Mary. Mary only saw her long blonde hair as she strode to kneel next to Sebastian. She placed her arms around his shoulders and he leaned into her. The woman stroked the back of his head and comforted him. Her skirt and hair enveloped Bash like a blanket. She whispered to him and held him close.

And Mary felt a funny thing.

Love.

Love was radiating off them like a wave.

As quickly as she was shown the image it was gone, leaving behind an eternal emptiness. Mary did not remember anything afterwards. There was only blackness, darkness, a hollowness unknown to her. Only voices, the same voices that she heard from when attacked in the passages, echoed in her mind. She felt the malevolent spirit at the edge of her unconsciousness, but it could not cross the threshold. It only lingered.


	7. Chapter 7

Mary awoke amongst furs and pillows finding herself in Nostradamus's infirmary bed. She was surrounded by her ladies Kenna and Greer, the only ones present in the castle. Catherine too, was hovering some distance away. Greer was the first to notice that she had awakened.

"Mary! Oh, thank goodness you are alright." she said immediately and hugged Mary tightly. Greer was looking lovely in her dress of green silk and she smelled of cooking herbs. It was a pleasant smell; it reminded Mary of a domestic life she could never have. The young queen smiled and hugged her friend back.

"Of course I am alright," Mary said, forgetting her whole ordeal in the passageways. "I never left."

Kenna came and sat down on the other side of the bed. She lightly touched her hand to Mary's forehead. She looked very bewildered.

"Nostradamus said that you had a spout of memory loss is all. He said it comes along with stress and anxiety." she stated and brought her hand back down into the folds of her skirt.

Mary cocked her head to the side, thinking on Kenna's words. It is true that she had been very frazzled of late.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Yes, for the most part." replied Greer who was looking rather distracted at the moment, staring off into the hallway. Mary could tell she was contemplating something. Greer was always pondering questions. She was the most intelligent of her ladies.

"Bash had found you Banthos's stall." Kenna added somewhat quietly.

"Sebastian?" Mary was surprised, although she really should not be. Of course Bash had known where to find her. He knew her almost better than anyone, apart from Francis. But even Francis did not know all her wants and desires. He had never inquired on the subject, never asked about her hobbies or pastimes. He presumed that she liked to do what every woman enjoyed, or was supposed to enjoy, embroidery, gowns and gardens.

"Yes, he—" Kenna began.

"He found Mary in the stables. End of story." Catherine interrupted and all of a sudden the life was sucked out of the room. "Mary, I must speak to Mary, _alone_."

Both Greer and Kenna gazed at one another skeptically. They were used to Catherine's antics by now. They were used to her dismissive tone. They rose from the bed slowly and cast sad glances in Mary's direction. Clearly, they did not want to leave her alone. Both curtsied and left the room. Catherine let out a deep sigh and took Kenna's place at Mary's side.

Mary stared at the widowed queen, a question playing in her eyes. She was still suspicious of Catherine. She always would be.

"My dear," she began, placing a cold hand over Mary's warm one. "There has been news of Francis."

Mary sat up quickly, struggling against her pillows.

"What news?"

Catherine did not look pleased. Whatever trouble her husband had gotten into was not to Catherine's liking. Mary could only hope she had not discovered his true reason for leaving._ That_ was a conversation Mary was not looking forward to.

"He has traveled to one of the more _infected_ towns." she said. "I fear for his life."

"You have no reason to feel that way." Mary replied.

Catherine shot daggers in her direction, suddenly rising to her feet. The French queen looked menacing in her lavish getup of orange and red. Mary could not help but compare her to a dragon; a dragon that spit fire when enraged.

"I fear for his life because he has no lineage. He has no son, no heir, not even a legitimate daughter! If he dies of the plague the whole line is lost."

"You have your other sons." Mary snapped.

"They have no idea how to rule, they no longer have a father!" Catherine said, striding towards the wooden doors.

"I know you are frightened Catherine, but that gives you no right to talk to _your_ Queen like that." Mary said calmly.

Catherine stopped in her tracks. She turned around. She struck Mary with a hard look.

"I am nobody's subject." she said in a deadpan voice and swept out the doors.

Mary did not move for several long moments. Scenarios ran over and over in her head of Francis's betrayal, of Francis's deception. If she could not produce an heir when he returned he might just turn to Lola's child. Mary thought of Henry VIII's daughter, Elizabeth, a woman and a bastard at the time. Mary, without a child, could even be undermined by an infant girl; if that is what Lola gives birth to anyways.

Mary rose from the bed and scanned the room for Nostradamus who was not to be found. She would talk to the prophet later. Light-headed and slightly deprived of energy, Mary slowly walked out the doors and into the hallway. She was feeling famished and could not recount the last time she had eaten. Making the conscious to appease her appetite, she made off towards the kitchen.

The kitchen was situated in the east wing of the castle and Mary had no trouble reaching it, not when she kept her head down and posture bent. It was amazing the attention self-confidence attracted. Mary shouldered through the wooden door and was met with warm aromas. It was not crowded at this hour, although it was hard to tell with one's head slightly down. She was making her way down to the fruits when strong hands grabbed her shoulders. She knew better then to squeal.

She knew those hands.

They were strong, gentle, diligent hands.

Mary was uncertain of what she might face if she looked up. Guilt, dishonor, heartbreak – her own betrayal – all of these things, these emotions, had been pushed down for so long. She had smothered them against the very bottom of her soul. Mary was not sure she had much of one left. She was no longer the person Bash had fallen in love with.

For it was Sebastian who was holding her at arms' length.

Sebastian, the keeper of her innocent heart.

Sebastian, the only flicker of her once wholesome self.

He could not love her. He would only cause himself pain. Mary was the harbinger of anguish. God only knew she wrought enough sorrow onto her own country by not being with them, by not being able to lead them.

She could not look up.

"Mary. . ." There was a deep-rooted torment in his voice. It struck her like a knife to the heart.

Mary did the one thing she could do. She made herself inhuman. She numbed herself to her own emotions. She shut them out like squalors out of a home. Then, a beautiful thing happened; Mary was freed. That is the price for rule; you cannot lead with your heart.

Bash gently cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her soft skin. He made her look at him. Her eye's met his, the light drained from her irises while his were aglow with sealed desire. He should be ashamed. A bastard should not covet his queen.

Sebastian searched his face for a Mary he would not find. She stared back at him, her eyes and heart cold. Her soul, however, flickered ever so slightly.

He dropped his hands to his sides and frowned. Mary squared her shoulders preparing for this conversation.

"Mary – I – " he began.

She quickly raised her hand, silencing him.

"What is it Sebastian?" she barked.

"I must speak with you."


	8. Chapter 8

Mary watched as Bash quickly darted his gaze towards the storeroom, a storeroom filled with grains and various spices. He motioned for her to follow him. She hesitated. To be caught in a room with a man who was not her husband would not bode well for her reputation. Not only that, but Mary could not trust herself around Bash. Her feelings for him still burned like a torch. If one happened to draw near, one would find oneself burnt.

His eyes were pleading and honest and honorable. No matter how hard she tried she could not resist her deep rooted desire. Just to be near him was like tasting spring's first rain shower; pure, crisp and clean. So she followed him, but she followed him with her shields raised.

He shut the door behind her and she stood before him as he did so. He leaned easily over her, grabbing the handle. Mary felt his body brush hers, enough so that she felt his strong form against her. Bash's chin came and went, catching strands of her hair. Mary inhaled his scent, leather and cloves. It filled her body like oxygen. It comforted her. It was Bash uniquely and wholly.

_Stop it_, she chastised herself, S_ebastian belongs to Kenna_. _You belong to Francis._

The words stung.

Mary wiggled out from under Bash's arm and clung to herself, hugging her shoulders. She waited for Sebastian to speak for she could not form a sentence. It was cold in the storeroom and she began to shiver.

"I do not want to be overheard," he began, his voice deep. "You know how fast gossip travels."

Mary nodded. She did not bother to tell him that someone probably noticed them escape into the storeroom. She watched as Bash lit the torches on the wall. It cast ghostly shadows across his features. It illuminated his bottle-green eyes. Mary saw his mother in those beautiful eyes. She was to beauty as Bash was to handsome. Once more, Mary reprimanded herself. She needed to get in and out of here without incident.

"What is it Sebastian?" she snapped, hoping she appeared annoyed.

He looked taken aback standing across on the other side of the room.

"Mary—"

"You are wasting my time Sebastian." she barked and made her features hard. Mary thought of Catherine and her personality. She channeled it, she embodied it. She made herself ruthless. Clearly, by Sebastian's features, it was working. He appeared horrified. It as if he was looking at a monster.

"What is wrong with you? What_ happened _to you?" Bash asked, a look of disparagement playing across his face.

The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller and Mary felt cornered. Queens should not feel cornered, ever.

"What happened to me? I have a country to run, I have men to lead, I have a husband running about plague infested lands! I have duties and I have responsibilities. What do _you_ have? A wife who takes pleasure in sleeping in other men's' beds?" Mary yelled, her voice growing in pitch.

"Do not bring Kenna into this Mary. I will not let you speak ill of her." he replied, his voice calm and leveled. She envied his patience. It was making things difficult for her. How Bash remained so composed was beyond her understanding of human nature.

"You told me you cared nothing for her." she retorted.

"Kenna is many things, but that does not make it impossible to love her."

Mary's world stopped spinning. Did Bash really love Kenna? Did he really develop a desire for her from nothing? Mary went into an emotional shock. She was in no way prepared for _those _words, not yet, not from Bash. It blew a hole in her façade. The oxygen was sucked from the room.

Mary did not remember her last real conversation with Bash. It was hard to recall anything from before her wedding. She no longer remembered the girl she once was. She did not remember the girl Bash fell in love with.

"You love her?" Mary asked quietly.

"Not like I loved you."

Mary's head raised and her eyes locked with his. The wall's she had been so carefully constructing, collapsed, crumbled, toppled over. The act she had given, especially around Bash, was cut.

She was open. She was vulnerable. She was susceptible to her own feelings. Mary felt a torrent of emotions bubble to the surface of her heart and soul; emotions she had not realized she had.

"She needs to be loved by someone like you." Mary whispered. She broke her gaze with him and looked at her feet.

"And you? What of someone loving you?" he asked pointedly.

"I have Francis. He loves me."

"The love you deserve?" Bash prodded and added coldly, "I believe he loves what you can give him."

"He loves me, that is all that matters." Mary shot back, daggers reflecting in her eyes. She did not want to talk about Francis; she did not want to face the truth. He was her husband and although he had transgressed in many ways, a small part of her loved him back. They were two tormented souls alike in ways she still did not understand.

"Yes, but Mary, you deserve a love that transcends time. You deserve a love that matches the goodness of your heart. A goodness that I know you still possess." he stated, taking a cautious step towards her.

"Bash these words… I cannot," she cried. "I know nothing of the love you speak of."

Tears began to fall down her cheeks. She was letting it spill out, not her tears, but her emotions.

"You know of _our _love, of what we had; what it felt like." Bash's voice was pressing, desperate.

"You speak of fairytales. You always have. The love you speak of does not exist. We do not live in that world. We may be Prince and Princesses, but we do not know of these things. We do not know tales of fantasy. Those are children's stories meant to give hope to hopeless children!" Mary began. She was rambling like a senseless beggar, like a waif. Tears now coated her red cheeks.

"This is not that world. I cannot be a benevolent queen I have to be a malevolent one, for those who are weak get stepped on; And I was stepped on for _so_ long Bash! For so long. I cannot be your Princess, I cannot be saved…I can only save myself. I— I am alone."

Bash came towards her, slowly at first, then all at once. The look on his face was one of pain.

"Mary… that is simply not true." he said his voice soothing. Bash was now standing before her, not quite touching, but close enough to where she could feel his warmth.

Mary once more began to ramble senselessly between sobs and fits of hysteria. She no longer knew who she was. She no longer recognized the person she had become.

It was at that moment, the lowest moment of her own self-destructiveness, that Bash took her into his arms and cradled her against him.

Mary let him.

Bash's arms wrapped around her small frame, enveloping Mary like a blanket. He whispered to her over and over again all while running cool hands through her hair. Her sobbing slowed to mere tears and her body stopped shaking. She pressed the side of her face to his chest and could make out the beating of his heart. He rocked her gently and ever so slightly, the side of his chin resting against her forehead.

Mary needed this. She needed Bash.

His hands traveled to her waist and he held her to him. She clung to him as if he were the only man who kept her from drowning. Mary had forgotten what it was like to be with Bash. He calmed her and made her feel human again. He still cherished her like a woman, not a queen.

All her tension left her body.

"Mary," Bash whispered into her hair. "I promise and swear that as long as I live, you will always have someone to trust."

The young queen gazed up at Bash and smiled. He brought his hand to her cheek and grazed her skin with his thumb; while the other hand held fast to her waist. His eyes were full of adoration. This was what it felt like to be protected, to be loved.

Sebastian's eyes dropped to her lips, but he made no move to kiss her. Mary saw the anguish of the decision play across his features. Bash was honorable and he would not betray Kenna's trust, not even in secret. Mary, too, did not want to be disloyal to Francis.

"You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you." Bash said, his voice husky as his other hand came up and cupped her cheek.

Mary nodded, closed her eyes, and they came to a certain understanding.


	9. Chapter 9

Sebastian walked Mary back to her chambers that night. They did not discuss the bond that Nostradamus told Bash they shared. Mary was too overwhelmed. She did not need the stress nor the pressure of knowing she was linked to a bastard. Bash knew how the royals worked. He knew what they thought of him.

Bash glanced over at Mary walking beside him, her shoulders squared and back rigid. He thought of her bravery, of her courage in the face of fear. She would be a noble queen. However, she was being led down a dark road; a road that if taken, could never be retraced. That is what he feared, he feared for her judgment.

They stopped outside her chamber doors. No one was around. It was late and the guards paced down the hallway only once or twice every fifteen minutes. Mary had not said a word since leaving the kitchen and Bash was concerned. The weights of queen ship were finally catching up to her. She gazed up at him. There was still a flicker of the old Mary left in her eyes.

He saw it.

He saw his Mary buried deep beneath the pain.

He touched her cheek. Her face fit perfectly in his hand and she leaned into his touch. She was tired. It was etched into her features. In the dimness of the hallway Bash could still see her beauty, her stubborn elegance. That is why he had stayed away from her. Her presence alone tempted him to do things he would regret. He would not regret the act, no, he would only regret the repercussions. The pain he would cause Kenna, it would be unbearable.

"Bash?" Mary whispered so quietly that he had to lean down, her lips brushing his ear. She raised her hand and gently grasped the back of his neck, her fingers running through his hair. "Bash, I want to thank you."

"For what Mary?" he murmured. She placed her other hand against his chest, beneath his leather vest, but over his woolen shirt. It rested right above his heart. Something primitive within him sparked. The yearning in her voice and the need to protect Mary almost consumed him.

"For still loving me."

Sebastian's heart skipped a beat. He lifted her chin so that she had to look at him. Her eyes were aglow. What he saw in them he had not seen in a long time. Bash saw desire, desire for him.

"Until the end of time I will love you and after that, whatever there may be, I will love you then." he said softly.

Bash pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He did not know for how long they stayed like that, but when they broke away he did not want to say goodbye. Mary was the one who left the embrace first. She dropped her hands to her side and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

"Goodnight Sebastian." and as she said it she did not look at him. Mary had turned her back and was already opening her doors.

"Goodnight my queen." he responded. He watched her pause, her hand on the door handle. She looked down in his direction so that he could see only her profile before slipping into her room. The moment she disappeared his body went cold and he immediately missed her warmth. He simply stood there, staring at her door, until he finally found it within himself to leave.

It was late, the middle of the night. Outside the world was dark and black, devoid of life. It was so quiet in the castle that Bash could almost hear the snoring of its sleeping residents. As he began to walk down the hallway however, he heard two voices whispering off in the distance. He turned the corner and saw the murmuring figures huddled together. One was clearly female and the other male.

The woman's back was to him and she was wearing a hooded cloak. The cloak looked very familiar as did the form of the petite woman. The man was not as recognizable. In fact, Bash had never seen him before. He was tall and probably in his late-twenties with black stubble and hair.

This whole situation was very odd and Bash crept into earshot of the couple. They did not appear to be romantically involved, simply two people having a serious conversation in the middle of the night.

_Why, this is not weird at all_, Bash thought, humoring himself, _people have late night talks all the time_.

He crouched down just behind the hallway's corner wall and listened.

"…Henry's death. Have you not discovered where the jouster buggered off to?" the male voice asked, a very British sounding voice.

Bash only caught half of what the woman said in response.

"I told you. The royals have not spoken a word, not of the jouster…" her voice faded off.

She sounded so familiar, but, then again, most women did. The only thing that Bash was certain of was that he had heard her voice before. He was sure he had heard it almost every day. However, she was speaking so softly it made it difficult to discern anything.

"…What of Mary's… have the spirits spoken of…?" the man asked.

Sebastian's ears immediately pricked at the mention of Mary's name.

"They have begun…Nostradamus is to be watched. He is not to be trusted." said the woman, pulling her cloak tighter. The man nodded and looked over her shoulder in Bash's direction.

Sebastian quickly turned and pressed himself against the wall. He was certain the Englishman had seen him. He looked over his left shoulder; the servants' hidden staircase. Bash scrambled across the floor and pushed on the panel until it gave way. He closed it swiftly and quietly. Luckily, this was one of the better secret doors, one that did not squeak.

He was breathing hard when he heard the female's voice approach.

"There is no one here." she said. "Perhaps _you_ are the one who is seeing ghosts now, Condé"

The man laughed heartedly.

"Perhaps." he said.

And as they walked back down the hall, Bash heard the woman's voice slip from a French accent to a natural British one.


	10. Chapter 10

Bash returned to his own chambers after several long minutes of waiting quietly behind the panel door. He did not want to be discovered by the pair in the corridor. He certainly did not need to be questioned why he himself was out so late.

He pushed open the doors and walked from the antechamber into the main bedroom. Kenna was undressing before him. She had not seen him enter the room, her back was to him. She masterfully undid her own corset and slipped on her cotton nightgown. Bash did not question the fact that she was out as late as he, Kenna often had trouble sleeping. He walked up behind her and gently touched her shoulder.

She squealed and jumped around, her eyes wide as a spooked deer. Once she saw that it was only Bash, she relaxed. Kenna ran a shaking hand through her hair.

"Bash… I do not appreciate being startled." she said and a smile slowly appeared across her lips.

Sebastian reached over and took her quavering hand into his own. He rubbed small circles in the palm of her hand. Kenna studied Bash as he did so.

"I am sorry." was all he said.

Kenna tossed her hair over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bash stiffened, but she did not seem to notice. She pressed herself against him and he smelled the strong spice of her perfume. It was so unlike Mary's soft and rosy scent. Kenna's aroma was overpowering.

She got up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips against his, attempting to tease his mouth open. Bash closed his eyes and Kenna's hands began to travel down his chest. Her lips left his mouth and she grazed his ear with her teeth.

Bash's eyes shot open.

"Kenna," he said, gently pushing her away. "Not tonight."

"What is wrong?" she asked, looking like she was about to cry. "Did I do something wrong?"

He sighed and took Kenna into his arms and hugged her. While it was true he did love her, his thoughts were elsewhere tonight. He rubbed circled across her back, not romantically, but in a way that was almost friendly. He felt Kenna bury her head in his leather vest.

"Where were you this night?" she mumbled, arms hugging his waist.

"In the kitchens." Bash answered automatically. It was not a complete lie.

"Oh." she breathed.

An awkward silence passed between the couple.

All Bash could think of was Mary lying in bed by herself without anyone by her side. Most nights she had Francis, but he was not here to comfort her tonight; and Mary was in a state where she needed to be told she was loved. His brother could only express his love one way, and it was not a way that Bash liked to think about. Mary was often disregarded by her husband, her opinions meant nothing to him.

"Bash?" Kenna prodded, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes?" he replied, looking down at his wife.

"Come to bed?" Kenna asked, although it said more as a statement then a question. She leaned up and kissed his cheek before bouncing off towards the bed. Bash sighed and followed. He would get little sleep tonight.

**. . .**

The next morning Bash rose before Kenna. It was early, but not early enough for the courtiers and servants to still be asleep. His wife made no move when he got out of bed and donned his clothes. Bash ran a quick hand through his hair and exited the room. He tied the strings of his leather vest as he went, not caring how he looked. Nearly running through the hallways, Bash was determined to get to the throne room.

He turned the corner and immediately stumbled into somebody; a male figure, tall and strong.

"My apologies." Bash atoned before looking up at the man.

"Do not bother. You are forgiven."

Sebastian raised his eyes.

It was him, the man from the hallway. Only this time, he was dressed finely in the clothes of a nobleman. His facial features were warm and inviting. His smile was quick and steady. His posture a little too pompous and a little too stiff. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes, a flicker that Bash could not discern.

He did not trust this stranger. He did not trust him one bit.

The man gave a simple bow.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "I am Condé, envoy to the English Parliament."

"Sebastian de Poitiers, Master of Horse and Hunt."


	11. Chapter 11

Later that day, Mary breezed into the throne room dressed in her finest garments of silk and lace. Her hair was curled and pinned up, revealing her long neck and pink cleavage. The gown she wore glimmered purple and gold with precious stones lining the corset. A golden crown rested beautifully in her hair amongst strands of auburn.

Mary was radiant.

As she glided across gilded marble, noblemen and women stopped and stared; their mouths agape with wonder. Mary's appearance demanded to be seen, to be admired. Both Greer and Kenna, whom were trailing their queen, while dressed finely, were nothing in comparison. All three women, together, would have made Aphrodite, and other Greek goddesses, jealous.

Today was the day scheduled for the arrival of the English. Members of both English Parliament and Queen Elizabeth's privy were to be present. Never had there been this many Sassenach in the presence of French nobility before. Mary's mother had used the term often. Sassenach referred to the Anglo Saxons, the first peoples to civil the nomadic islands where the Welsh, Scots and English now reside.

Mary would be lying to herself if she said she was not nervous. Her palms were clammy and sweat dotted her brow. Her ladies gave her confidence, however, and bequeathed strength where strength did not exist.

The guards had just opened the large wooden doors and Mary was immediately overwhelmed by the mass of people. All colors of silk and other fabrics danced across the room. It made Mary's eyes dizzy with wonder. The Court's steward quickly drew out his trumpet and announced their arrival.

The throne room silenced; eyes were drawn to Mary and her ladies.

The young Queen scanned the room and the first person she saw was Sebastian. He was standing to the right of her throne, waiting for her. Mary's heart started to beat faster. Bash was gazing at her with wide eyes, taking in her beauty. He too was dressed richly, in furs and expensive leathers. His hair, of course, was mused and tousled, resisting complete elegance.

Greer nudged her forwards and Mary was startled out of her reverie.

She stumbled, but quickly regained her balance and walked onwards. The nobility parted as she went. Men dropped to one knee and women curtsied. Whispers floated past her as she went. Whispers she could not perceive.

Mary reached her throne, swept her gown out from behind, and sat.

The room waited for her to speak.

"Please, Lords and Ladies, continue your conversations. You make it appear as if I am some sort of reaper. Catherine de Medici will be here shortly." Mary said, teasing the crowd. They snickered collectively, bringing a smile to Mary's face. The room quickly filled with voices once more.

"Who knew the Queen could jest?" Bash whispered, his voice teasing.

Mary turned her head in his direction.

"Who knew the Master of Horse and Hunt could dress appropriately." she shot back.

"My Queen I am wounded by your statement, truly." He replied, laying a hand to his chest in faux distress.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the crowd. One could tell the difference between a Frenchmen and Englishmen. Their divergence was evident in their attire. Their gestures, posture and mannerisms were all a defining characteristic. Many Sassenach were present, more than Mary had counted upon. In fact, over these past few weeks, she had forgotten that Queen Elizabeth had sent them. For what purpose Mary did not remember.

"You look magnificent, Mary." Bash uttered, his voice low and barely audible, interrupting her thoughts.

For a brief moment she said nothing. His words had caught her off-guard.

"You know I do not enjoy all this flattery." Mary responded, and then added, "Thank you."

"Yes, but I _do_ know your passion for people. They respect you." Bash said, leaning down, his breath close to her ear. Mary looked to the crowd to see if anyone was watching.

"I hope so. I hope that they maintain it, even if Francis does not return." Mary started, "I hope –"

Catherine entered the room, cutting Mary off.

Once more, the room was thrown into silence. Only this time, apprehension hung in the air. They announced Catherine's arrival, she strode towards her gilded throne, sat, and stared at the Sassenach with disgust glinting in her eyes. Her elaborate red gown, a gown Mary had never seen before, spilled out across the chair. While beautiful, the dress made the French Queen appear even more menacing.

"Alright, let us get done with this." Catherine muttered, more to herself then Mary.

Catherine greeted them, presenting them with an eloquent speech filled with false pleasantries and warm welcomes. The English did not know this of course. They did not know Catherine like Mary did. Afterwards, the Scottish Queen granted a few choice words and civilities.

The whole ordeal was rather short. There would be a longer meeting between the more important members of the party later. The big announcement, however, was that there was to be a welcoming ball that night. A smile spread across Mary's lips. She looked to Greer and Kenna who were grinning just the same.

The throne room cleared within minutes and only a few people stayed behind. Mary rose from her chair and was about to leave when a figure approached her. Before she even saw who it was her heart began to beat uncontrollably. She looked over her shoulder, noticing Greer, Kenna and Bash all standing behind her. Sebastian had gone pale. Mary turned her head back gazed at the man standing before her.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was clearly of noble birth and he was incredibly handsome. His strong jaw and broad shoulders, his black hair and stubble, dark blue eyes that pierced her own, all made him look very English.

He bestowed a deep bow.

"Your Majesty."

He rose and for a brief moment gazed over her shoulder.

"What is your name?" Mary asked.

"Condé de Bourbon, English Parliament." he replied, turning his attention back towards the Queen.

"A very French name." Mary stated, noting his strong English accent.

"Yes, well my linage is in France. I traveled to England when I was just a boy and became involved in politics." he said.

Mary studied his features and contemplated the story that lay beneath. She could never trust an Englishman, she never would. However, this man appeared genuine enough.

"Will you be attending the ball tonight Condé?" she prodded.

"I would not wish to miss your beauty, your Majesty." he gave another bow. Mary blushed uncontrollably; a blush Mary was taught should always be concealed.

"Very good, I would love to hear more about your French linage."

"It would be my pleasure." Condé whispered and kissed her fingers. The word pleasure, from his mouth, made her pink.

Suddenly, a dark mist appeared at the edge of her vision. A mist she had seen before. As Condé departed with his countrymen, the spirit came forwards. Mary was frozen in place and the world stopped spinning. Its eyes glowed red with hate. Mary could hear Geer and Kenna calling her name, but she could do nothing about it.

_My little Queen_, the spirit hissed, _Lust is dextral. Lust is primal. I have been on this earth a long while. Evil lurks within a mile._


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you see that?" Mary asked, staring at the mist figure hovering in the archway. The phantom's eyes burned into her own. It slowly began to fade, but Mary could tell it was restless, it wanted something.

"See what Mary?" Kenna prodded and came to stand by her queen.

The longer Mary stared at the figure the more lightheaded she became. Sweat began to break out along her neck and arms. The mist drifted towards her slowly at first then, all at once, rushed her. Mary panicked and tripped backwards over her skirts.

"Mary!" Greer screeched.

She fell against something not soft, but firm. Mary's mind began to wander, coming in and out of darkness. The mist now stood only a few feet away.

Both Kenna and Greer dropped to her side bringing cool hands to her face. She felt strong arms wrap around her waist and somehow, Mary knew, Bash was holding her against him. She lifted her head and looked at the dark figure, her skull light and weak.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, wishing her voice was stronger.

Nothing. There was no response.

Mary could hear the commotion going on all around her. People now surrounded her and asked her questions that she could not perceive. She heard Bash, off in the distance, trying to calm everyone down and make them walk away. She felt him attempting to shield her from their sight with his body. Meanwhile, Kenna and Greer lingered close; so close in fact that Mary could smell their perfume.

The mist lowered itself to her eye level and opened its mouth. It was nothing but an abyssal black hole and did not move as it spoke.

_King Henry did not heed my warnings. Let us hope the Queen of Scots and the bastard of France - will._

Then, it was gone. The figure vanished before her eyes and left behind nothing but a cold chill. Her heart beat began to slow immediately.

"Mary?" Bash asked so quietly that she was certain only she could have heard him.

She tilted her head in his direction; her eyes closed and chin down. Her head rested against his chest and where his shoulder met his neck.

"Hmmm…?" she mumbled. Mary could feel her senses coming back and she could begin to think more clearly. Bash ran a quick, but gentle hand down her cheek. It was instinctive and she knew that he had not meant to do it in public.

"I am going to bring her to Nostradamus. It looks as though she fainted from lack of air." Sebastian said to Greer, Kenna and the people around them.

"Let me come with you." Kenna said hurriedly, placing a hand on Bash's arm. He paused for a moment as if contemplating her statement.

"No," he began suddenly and forcefully. "She needs quiet and somewhere to go without questioning."

From Mary's view point Kenna looked taken aback. A scowl quickly spread across her lips. Greer stood and helped Kenna to her feet.

"Come along Kenna," she said. "Mary will be alright."

Sebastian's wife did not look pleased. However, she did not complain when helped up by Greer. Mary's other lady kept insisting to Kenna that their friend would be alright.

"Can you quickly dispel rumors of Mary's fall? She fainted due to her corset being too tight and air too thick." Bash discreetly asked her ladies.

"Yes, of course." Greer answered. Her and Kenna swiftly cleared the room of people and, soon after, strode out of the throne room with their assignment.

Mary was certain she was losing her wits. She was certain that her demons from her dreams were coming to reality and haunting her. She was certain she was falling victim to Henry's sickness. It could have been her lack of sleep, her lack of eating or her lack of fresh air. Ever since Francis had left her she had felt sick. Mary was a shell of her once former self.

"Sebastian?" she asked, "Am I crazy? Am I going to end up like Henry?" Mary slowly dragged herself away from Bash's embrace and sat across from him. They were both sitting closely together on the throne room floor.

"No," replied Bash, reaching out and cupping her cheek. "No, you are not going insane."

"Did you see that though? The phantom?"

Bash paused. He was quiet for several long moments.

"Yes, I saw." he finally whispered. "I have been seeing them for weeks. In my dreams and in the castle."

Mary did not know what to say. These past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions and supernatural occurrences. Sometimes, she wanted to give up. Sometimes she wanted to forget about being Queen and live the life of a simple serf. She let her head fall and studied the patterns on the marble floor.

"Hey," Bash murmured. He reached forwards and tilted her chin up so she could only look at him. His eyes were burning with compassion, with light and hope. Mary was amazed by his resilience. "You are a _great_ Queen and, I know, you can overcome anything you set your heart to."

Her heart swelled and then fell within moments.

"Nostradamus said this is happening because we are bound and I believe it is because of the blood ritual over my cousin's grave."

"Bound? What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"It means," he started, "That whatever happens to me, happens to you."

"Well then, why are _we_ the only ones seeing ghosts?"

Sebastian shrugged. He ran a calloused hand back through his hair and down his neck. He was clearly trying to come up with a logical answer; an answer that would calm Mary's logical mind.

"I do not know."

Mary shook her head. This was all too much to wrap her head around and the day was not yet finished. They still had a ball to attend. Tonight would be long and painfully taxing on her weakened body.

"We must go. People will be wondering what became of us." She said, struggling to her feet. Bash caught her before she did.

"Mary."

"Yes?"

"Whatever you need tonight," Bash stated. "I will be there for you."


	13. Chapter 13

Mary glided into the ballroom, catching everyone's eye. She entered alone, without a man to escort her. Mary felt proud, she felt like a queen. She looked like one too, dressed in a dark blue gown, the kind of blue like that before nightfall. Dark sapphires lined her lacy bodice and sleeves. This dress was more revealing then the one she wore earlier, with a plunging neckline and tighter skirt she felt almost naked. A necklace, worth the whole French treasury, adorned her collarbone and elegant earrings tickled her throat.

Men stopped what they were doing and stared with mouths open. Women's eyes grew wide with envy when they saw her gown. Even servants could not help but look when they rushed by.

Mary looked to her right and noticed Sebastian standing with Kenna. Kenna was leaning over, whispering to him, but he was not to be moved. His eyes never left Mary. Bash, himself, looked quite handsome in his expensive leather and furs as well as his newly polished boots. He had shaved down his stubble and had ruffled his hair thoroughly, not combing it straight like most men.

However, Mary was interrupted when a man came forwards and bowed before her.

Condé.

"Your Majesty, you eclipse the Sun with your beauty." he praised, taking her hand and kissing it. Mary was so surprised by his flattery she did not have the words to speak. He grinned up at her before straightening his back. She glanced back over in Bash's direction. He was glowering at Condé.

"Such a thing is not possible; for only the Moon can make the Sun dim." she replied raising her chin. She saw Condé's wit playing out beneath his eyes.

"Oh, but Mary, do you not see? The Moon is naught but jealous of the Sun's desire for you." He said and took her in his arms and led her to the dance floor.

The music began to play immediately, a soft tune at first then rising to a more elaborate pitch. Light from the chandeliers cast golden hues against the paneled walls and aromas of all kinds teased Mary's nose.

"If the Sun coveted me so I would be engulfed by flame." She commented as Condé expertly swung her across gilded marble.

"Such is the way of love." he breezed and gazed at her with passion in his eyes. He spun her around and around as if she weighed nothing. Her feet barely grazed the floor. She felt light as a feather with Condé leading her.

"Passion is like a fire - hot, intense, uncontrollable, it makes the world brighter and life worth living." he added. "I am certain the Queen of Scots knows this."

Mary paused, stumbling over Condé's feet. He corrected her mistake easily. She searched the room for Bash, but she could not find him. Her mind and heart went into a panic. She glanced back towards her dance partner. Condé was staring intently at her. As the music began to slow he brought his hands down to her lower back.

Swirl, swirl, swirl. Dance, step, dance, step.

Then nothing. The song ended and Mary was out of breath.

Condé gazed down at her, his face inches from her own. For a moment Mary stood there thinking that he was going to try to kiss her. He did not. Instead, he walked her back to the edge of the dance floor.

"You are quite apt at dancing Condé." Mary stated, plucking a glass of wine from a nearby tray as a servant passed. She inhaled the alcohol as fast as possible.

"Well, I have had much experience. When you have three sisters who always want to be taken to a ball, you learn fairly quickly." he replied.

Mary nodded and observed the ballroom floor. The next song had started already and Mary spotted Bash and Kenna right away. She was pressed closely to him and he was smiling down at her with light inside his eyes. She said something short and a grin quickly spread out across his face. Kenna was a beautiful dancer; however, Bash found it more challenging than most.

Another tray passed and Mary quickly grabbed a goblet, downing it in seconds. Bash was infuriating. How could Kenna make him laugh so easily? She turned back to Condé and smiled, offering her hand.

"Care for another?" Mary asked.

"Your Majesty, it is looked down upon to dance more than one song with anyone but your husband."

"You think I do not know proper edict?" she retorted. He shrugged.

"Who am I to turn down a dance with the most beautiful woman in all of France?" he flattered and swung her easily into his arms. Mary concentrated on her feet this time. She did not miss a single step.

They passed Bash and Kenna several times, but Mary did not even cast a glance in their direction. She was weightless in Condé's arms. As the song went on people cleared the ballroom floor and watched in amazement. They spun and spun, twirled and twirled. By the time the song ended, all eyes were on them and the room erupted into applause.

Both Mary and Condé were breathing heavily. She looked up and smiled at him. She had not had that much fun in a long time.

She exited the floor and plucked another glass of wine. By this time, Mary was feeling a little wobbly and unbalanced. The light around her became dizzying. Condé came to her side as she was scanning the room for Sebastian. Another servant passed; another goblet in her hands.

"Where is the Master of Horse and Hunt?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Pardon?" replied Condé.

"Look," Mary said, setting her glass on a passing tray. "You have been a delightful and handsome dance partner, but I cannot love you."

"Mary, lower your voice." he shushed which Mary took great offense to and told him as much.

"You spoke of passion earlier, I know noth…" her voice trailed off as a dark figure appeared at the edge of her vision.

She cursed loudly. Condé shushed her again and led her away by the shoulders.

"Mary!" he chastised.

"Stop that!" she barked and pushed him away from her. Mary stumbled and caught her herself on the draperies. The world would not stop spinning. She screamed out in her mind for the mist to leave her alone. It did not move.

She made her way out of the ballroom, leaving both Condé and the spirit behind. Mary knew this castle well. However, in this drunken shape she was not so sure. She came to a darkened hallway and sunk to her knees against the wall. She pulled at her hair and her dress, begging for the phantoms to go away, for the voices to stop. Mary had thought the wine would numb her, not cause her to see things that were not there.

"Mary?" asked a male voice.

"No more dancing, no more –" she started.

"Mary it is me."

"Stop!" she held up a shaking hand. "Stop. I do not know anything…I – I do not know what you want…I – "

Gently, carefully, strong arms wrapped around her frail, quavering body. Mary resisted at first, struggling against a hard form. Then, she inhaled the scent of clover and her body lost all tension.

"Bash…"


	14. Chapter 14

Bash said nothing at first. He simply held her to him as she sobbed against his chest. All her emotions, her frustrations, her pain, it unraveled deep within her soul. Mary did not know why she was subject to such a loss as cursed love. All she knew was that she was being punished by some greater force; a greater force that was sending spirits to mock her suffering.

"Mary…" Bash murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair. "Mary, come on."

He helped her to her feet and she immediately stumbled forwards. Bash caught her just before she lost complete balance. She leaned against him, using his strong form to keep herself upright. She unconsciously, with a numbed mind, ran her hand down his arm and entwined it with her own as they walked. Bash's step faltered ever so slightly, but instead of letting go, he squeezed her hand softly. Mary did not notice, her head was lolled against his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"To your chambers." he replied easily. Mary made a chirping sound in her throat, a disbelieving squeak.

As they walked down the darkened corridors, Mary could have sworn she saw shadows trailing close behind. There were no torches, the curtains were drawn and not a sound to be heard, nothing but a cold chill circulated amongst cold stone. Marble statues glared down as they passed, their faces etched with disappointment. Mary held fast to Bash's arm.

"Bash? Can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice soft and words slightly slurred.

"Anything."

Mary hesitated. She had never told anyone this, not even her ladies, not even Francis. Her worst fears, her nightmares, her hell, she had always kept it sealed within her heart. She had let it fester over all these years, all these painful years.

"I have dreams, nightmares, about my future." Mary choked. The next sentence nearly dropped her to the floor. "I see my future husbands and all I see is their betrayal. I – I see my gravestone… my gravestone…" she broke down into tears.

They had reached her chamber doors and, before anything else, Bash shoved them open using his shoulder. And as soon as it clicked shut, he embraced Mary, running warm hands through her hair. She hugged his waist and buried her head in his jacket.

"Mary, you must not think of such terrible things. It makes one sick." he whispered into her cheek.

"You do not understand." she said pushing away from him and walking into the middle of the room. "I see them killing, plotting, burning before me. I see Elizabeth toying with them like puppets."

"Mary…"

"I see_ you_ standing over my gravestone." she said abruptly, turning around to face him, no longer crying, but with sorrow etched into her features. Her eyes were hard.

Sebastian froze a breath away from her face.

Mary's bottom lip quavered. Bash reached up and, with both hands, cupped her face. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers.

"Your heart is so beautiful. Mary, you must not reflect on such things, it dampens your light." he murmured.

Mary reached up and touched his cheek. Silent tears ran down her red cheeks.

"I want you to know, I chose Francis because it was easy. It was easier to wed a man who could never love me so wholly as to put himself at risk." she uttered. "I chose him out of duty. I chose him because if I was wed to you - I would love you more than my own country…"

Mary gazed up at Bash and saw something she never would have thought conceivable.

Bash had tears running down his face.

Bash, who was not afraid of anything. Bash, who was seemingly immune to pain. Bash, who was stronger than any man she knew.

She reached up and hugged him and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Mary stroked the back of his head with a gentle hand. As Bash brought his hands to her waist, she noticed they were shaking. She pulled away ever so slightly so that their noses were almost touching, their bodies inches away from one another.

"Sebastian…" she breathed. "I love you Bash. I love you more than anything on this earth."

And Mary kissed him.

And he did hesitate to kiss her back.

And he was gentle and he was soft.

He reached up and pulled each pin lightly from her hair so that one by one, each strand fell to her shoulders. He ran his hands through her hair, tangling and twining it in his fingers. Mary teased his bottom lip and he let out a low growl deep within his throat. He gently ran his hands down the length of her body, stopping at her hips.

"Bash," she murmured. "You need not be so gentle. I will not break."

It was as if a fire lit up beneath them. Bash backed Mary up against the wall and she roughly tugged off his vest. He lifted her up, her back digging into the draperies, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She did not feel any pain, only excitement, excitement to have Bash fully enthralled in her.

Before Mary knew what she was doing, Bash's shirt came off and fell to the floor. His lips were everywhere; her neck, her cheeks, her breasts. He could not help but explore her body with his hands and mouth. Mary, too, was all over Bash, running hands down his abdomen, his waist. She felt warm fingers tickle her thighs and hips, her dress rising above her waist.

"Mary…"

"Yes?" her voice was light and breathy, her lips swollen from his kisses.

"Do you want this Mary?" he croaked, biting her ear, his hands firmly at her waist. Mary's head was tilted to the side and she leaned down next to his ear.

"I want _you_." she whispered.

It was as if it was her first time all over again. Only this time she was with a man much more experienced then Francis. A man that knew how to love her, not just kiss her.

Bash brought her back to him and she turned around against him as he expertly undid her laces. His hands were slow and methodical and, as he pulled each lace, he let his hands wander down her bare back. Mary's arms exploded with goose bumps. When her dress fell to the floor, Bash picked her up and gently laid her down on the bed.

What happened next was nothing but a blur; a wonderful, beautiful, erotic blur. There was just Sebastian and Mary, skin on skin, lips on lips. This was not blind passion, not the kind of passion shared between Francis and Mary, this was _real_.

This was Mary and Bash's first time. He was so gentle, so incredibly gentle. Bash knew that this was not Mary's first time, but he cherished it all the same.


	15. Chapter 15

Bash studied Mary as her face was illuminated by the soft moonlight streaming in through open windows. He watched as her lips moved ever so slightly as she slept. Bash noticed how the night breeze played with her hair, tossing it around as it cascaded over silk pillows. He gently ran his hand down her porcelain like cheek, his fingers leaving butterfly kisses across her skin.

He treasured this moment. He would treasure it for the rest of his life.

In this breath of time, Mary looked like she once did, innocent and honest. What they had just shared, Sebastian would not soon forget. He did not regret it. Maybe he was being selfish or maybe he was just human, but he did not regret loving Mary. In those precious moments he had never felt more alive, more free.

Beneath Bash's hand Mary stirred. He watched as she slowly blinked her eyes open. In the quiet light her irises glowed a radiant amber and, as she met his gaze, they exuded warmth. Her lips did a magnificent thing – they smiled.

He bent down and kissed those smiling lips; lips that tasted as decadent as sweet honey. Mary sighed against his mouth. It was a blissful exhaustion of pure content.

She reached over beneath the covers and grazed his upper chest with her hand. And her hand fell right above his beating heart. A heart that beat for her and for her alone. It was a heart that was unscathed by corruption or darkness. Bash's conscious was not to be found in a man anywhere else in the world.

Sebastian embraced Mary, breaking away from the kiss to sing a tender Pagan tune about the love of life. She hummed along with closed eyes and, for a perfect moment, they were in harmony.

She curled herself up against him, her cool skin teasing his own, her head tucked under his chin. He continued to sing, stroking her hair as he did so. Bash looked up from Mary and gazed out the windows. The stars had never shone so bright.

"Bash…" Mary whispered, kissing his bare shoulder.

"Yes?"

He inhaled the strong scent of roses riding in on the night breeze. He smelled the pine and the crisp aroma of the river. And, most of all, he smelled Mary; her lovely scent embedded in the soft, silk sheets.

"Stay. Please stay with me." The sound in Mary's voice was pleading, insistent, her voice sparking something primal.

"You know that is impossible." he replied. Mary sat up, holding the covers to her chest and exposing her back. Sebastian followed the curve of her body with light fingers and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was decided.

"You do not want this?" she whispered, her eyes colored with sorrow.

"Mary," Bash's voice was husky. He brought his lips to the soft skin where her chin met her neck and lightly kissed her. "I never wanted anything more…" he murmured.

"But…" she started.

"I have Kenna to think about, Mary." Bash said abruptly, pulling away from her. "You chose that path for me."

Mary fell from his embrace against the pillows. She stared at the canopy above for several long moments. Looking over at Bash, her eyes were still calculating, still wanting. He rolled on his side and began to play with her hair, running it through his fingers.

"Then you will be my lover." she exclaimed.

"Oh really?" he smiled.

"Yes, and you will be there whenever I need you." Mary added.

"I like that word." Bash growled and kissed her lips, slow and passionately; his hands running down the length of her body, her own hands at his waist. Mary's body immediately craved him, recognized him and wanted him closer.

"What?" she exhaled, breathless.

"Need. It is a word used when the soul cannot be without its mate." He whispered and kissed her collarbone.

Mary giggled. "Are you saying you're my true love Sebastian de Poitiers?"

"Love does not explain what we have, my Queen. It is too flimsy of a word." His voice was barely audible, his self-control nearly gone. He was kissing her everywhere. Mary's skin tasted like honey and he could not get enough. Her lips as savory as sugar and as soft as silk.

"Then what does my dear Master of Horse and Hunt?"

"The words simply do not exist." he said, lifting himself so he could gaze at her. "Only our hearts, only our hearts…"

And with that being said, Mary craned her neck and began to kiss Bash back, wrapping her legs around him. Soon, they were nothing more but the epitome of lust and love, totally and utterly consumed with one another. Bash had never felt so in love. He would never experience this love again, the love he held for Mary – it was eternal.


	16. Chapter 16

Mary awoke with a start. Her eyes flew open and they were wild with an animalistic-like glow. The first thing she was immediately aware of was the biting chill of the room, a coldness seeping into her bones. The fire had long since burned out and the breeze blowing in no longer pleasant. She sat up and glanced down to her right.

Sebastian, and his warmth, were gone.

What had just transpired, Mary did not fully comprehend. For the precious few hours that they had shared, she had felt whole again. Mary had felt truly loved. And Bash's words were not empty, inadequate things to be disposed of. His words were promises to be kept close to one's heart. Her body already ached for a man she could never have. Her soul yearned for its partner in a way that made her mind sick.

She reached over and touched the soft silk where he had lain; it was cold.

However, the void space beside her was not what woke Mary. There was an entirely different presence within the room; a threatening presence. At first Mary had thought it to be another spectral, but no. The figure, standing by the doorway at the edge of her vision, was dressed as a shadow. It was of flesh and blood, the gender indiscernible.

Mary lifted her knees, hugging her covers to her chest. Although she had donned a loose, cotton shirt some time during the night, she still felt totally and utterly exposed. She glared defiantly at the figure. Mary's brows furrowed and her lips set into a hard line. The figure, hidden beneath a hooded mask, flashed pearly teeth in the moonlight.

The person, whoever it was, was dressed in all black and Mary caught sight of daggers as well as blades hidden amongst folds of leather. Blending into the darkness, the form was almost indiscernible.

"Who are you?" Mary demanded, surprised at the strength of her own voice.

Another smile, another fingering of the blades.

The figure melted into the blackness of the room. Mary could no longer see the spectral, this ghost person. Perhaps she was indeed having another visitation by spirits. Perhaps she _had _truly lost her wits.

But no, she could hear the figure close by. She could hear its breathing. She backed up against the headboard and fumbled for her own hidden dagger. The room was stifling. Where was Sebastian? Did he leave on his own free will?

"Who…are…you?" Mary's words held more malice this time, more authority.

A light feminine chuckle drifted towards her from within darkness. It was familiar, so familiar in fact that Mary was certain she knew who the laugh belonged to.

"I am many things, my sweet Mary," came a voice, lilting in a very distinct British accent. "an assassin, a spy, an enemy…a friend…"

The girl was all around her. Her voice was projected from everywhere within the room. The sound of cat-like movements could be heard silently moving across the wooden floors. Mary caught glimpses here and there, but the figure was all over.

"I am friend to no Sassenach." Mary practically spit the word. Another laugh, and then…

The figure pounced on Mary, whipping out her dagger and pressing the cold steel to the young Queen's throat. Mary struggled beneath the girl, attempting to draw her own hands out from under her. The figure above her snarled and pressed down on her shoulder with a free hand, the mattress dipping under their combined weight.

"Watch it Mary, make one more movement and it would be my pleasure to slit your throat open right here." she hissed.

Mary could indeed feel the blade nicking her soft skin. She gave more one valiant protest before relinquishing to her captor. The girl behind the hood smiled a wicked smile and raised the butt of the dagger's handle.

"God save the Queen."

And Mary went black.

I hope you enjoyed the last few chapters! I'm sorry I haven't been updating as much as usual…school just started again…ugh…life. I just wanted to let you guys know I love all your comments and reading them brightens my day! What do think will happen next? Who is this girl and what does she want? Stay tuned


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